You Don't Need to Worry

Zhang Heng did not have to wait long before the modified car club members returned.

The young man from the 911 came back with them. He walked toward Zhang Heng, one hand reaching into his pocket, so Zhang Heng pulled out his utility knife as well.

"Misunderstanding." Seeing this, the young man hurriedly raised a hand to show he meant no harm, then took out his phone. "You won this race. The prize money is 240,000 yuan in total. What's your bank account number?"

"I haven't had time to get a bank card yet. Do you have cash?" Zhang Heng asked.

The young man froze at that. An expert really was an expert—was this how carefree he lived, not even bothering to get a bank card? But perhaps only someone so detached from worldly concerns could develop such driving skills.

Didn't martial arts novels often describe things like this? Once someone's martial arts reached a certain level, the next step was cultivating their state of mind. By the same logic, perhaps truly exceptional drivers were like that too? Those who had not reached that level probably found it hard to understand.

"Y-you... wait a moment."

The young man turned around and began gathering money from the others. Electronic payments were already quite common now, so even as rich second-generation kids, they did not carry much cash when they went out. Most of them only had three to five thousand yuan in their wallets for emergencies, since they generally used cards for large purchases.

So after scraping together money for quite a while, the young man only managed to collect around fifty thousand yuan. Judging by the ten-yuan bills mixed in, they had probably truly done their best.

"Don't worry, I'll call someone to bring the rest over," the young man